


So Far (It's Alright)

by someforeignband



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Dorks in Love, I did this instead of studying for finals, I promise, Idiots in Love, John Lennon is kind of a douche, John has a soft spot for Paul, John is super confident, M/M, Paul needs to learn how to not stare at people, Pining Paul McCartney, college shenanigans, i hope you like this, minor Brian Epstein/John Lennon, this is GOING TO BE FANTASTIC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someforeignband/pseuds/someforeignband
Summary: A collection of strange instances in which Paul finds himself in John’s company while trying to really get a handle on this whole college thing.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 29
Kudos: 51





	1. An Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> HI UH I just randomly got super inspired out of nowhere and so hopefully this will be a super carefree and fun story full of cutesy mclennon (and smutty mclennon ofc)  
> I hope you guys like it! To be real, I really miss uni so !!! yeah I hope you like it!!

_ You have got to be fucking kidding me.  _ I pulled and pulled on the door handle, hoping that all of this was some kind of fucking sick joke. My phone, my keys, my  _ entire audition packet is sitting on the fucking floor of my dorm room and there is nothing I can do about it.  _ I looked up at the ceiling, then down at my watch, groaning, scrubbing a hand over my face. I guess that I could try to see if the RA was here with the master key, but I knew my ass would get fined up the wazoo. Couldn’t have that. Part of me wanted to bite the bullet and walk down to the front desk, but god knows how much that fucking fine would be… Christ. 

I needed to submit that stupid packet to the dropbox online by midnight and it’s like 10:30 right now and there’s honestly no chance that my roomate’s gonna make it back anytime soon, seeing as he left to go to the bars like ten or so minutes ago, and honestly, even if I had the ability to call him, he probably wouldn’t be willing to walk back to campus just to open the damned door. I let out another frustrated sigh, looking up and down the dorm hallway, looking for any kind of life. 

I was  _ not  _ about to go knock on some random person’s door just to ask to borrow their phone, and besides I’d be hard-pressed to imagine George saying he’d come back. Maybe if I’d talked to more of these people, but honestly we were two weeks into the semester and I barely knew anyone besides George and a couple girls on the floor below us. 

I guess I could try talking to my RA, seeing if he’d unlock my door, but I doubt he had the master key, anyway. The only person who had that was the asshole,  _ Brian, _ who worked at the front desk. He was the head of all of the RA’s, the Residence Hall Coordinator or some Bullshit Position like that, and immediately took a horrible liking to being an absolute asshole to me, and he’d probably charge me double to unlock my door. 

I slumped against the wall, sinking down to sit against it, tucking my knees up into my body. I guess there’s no choice but to wait for George to come back, probably horribly drunk and dragging some random girl he’d met from the bar along with him. I’d be spending most of the night trying to keep myself busy, not in the room, probably watching bootlegged low-budget horror films from my new-found, favorite nook in the library. I wished I had my phone. Then I could at least email the Production Director and tell him the situation, maybe he’d accept my audition packet later than normal, and all of this would be straightened out. 

Fuck I was so dumb.

Maybe if I email him later tonight and tell him about everything that happened, then it would all be okay. It would have to be okay. There were going to be more productions, anyway, even if this didn’t work out, I had more time, I was only a freshman after all. 

I let out a shaky breath, rubbing my eyes once again, resting my head against the wall, the strange fullness of the silence in the hall feeling almost deafening. I had nothing to do, save for looking at the wall. God I wish I had my fucking phone.

God almighty I was so stupid.

The one time I don’t bring it to the bathroom with me is the time I fucking regret it. 

I sighed, watching one of my neighbors walk to the hall sink to fill up his Brita pitcher, I didn’t know his name, and honestly I could just make casual conversation, but at this point I felt so embarrassed about the whole thing. I took a deep breath through my nose, looking at the digital clock on the wall, 10:32. 

Two bloody, miserable minutes had passed. That was all. Two minutes. 

Whatever. 

It could be worse. 

__

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, honestly, I’d sort of fallen into a strange day dream daze as I stared at the crummy, peeling wallpaper on the wall opposite the one I was leaning against. But, I was jolted out of whatever weird trance I was stuck in when I saw the first sign of life since Brita Filter Boy had gone to fill up his pitcher, it was a boy I hadn’t seen on campus yet, so I hoped he didn’t live on this floor. That would be quite embarrassing if I’d neglected to introduce myself to this boy and he’d lived on this floor the entire time. I glanced quickly at the clock, it read 11:02, then I averted my gaze back at the boy. 

He was glued to his phone, a pair of airpods in his ears, earlobes adorned in way too many hoop earrings, his head bobbing along to some sort of music that I couldn’t hear, clunky Doc Martens making squeaking sounds on the tile of the dorm hall floor. He’s dressed in almost unlawfully tight black jeans, a makeshift shoelace belt around his waist, a light-wash jean jacket with the collar popped, and a bright blue crop top that reads “Bernie2020”. And frankly, it’s sinful. It’s almost criminal the way he looks. 

I can’t tell what his hair looks like because it’s tucked up under a beanie, but I could tell that it was soft. He didn’t seem like the kind of heathen to use 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. He’s got a nice bone structure, a nice jawline, high cheekbones, a strong aquiline nose. However, the boy doesn’t even seem to notice I’m there as he walks slowly, typing away on his own phone, his steps slow and measured. Out of curiosity, I almost try to read whatever he’s typing on his phone in the reflection of his gold, round-rimmed glasses. Yeah, I was that bored, that’s beside the point. It isn’t until he nearly trips over me that he seems to notice my existence at all. 

“Shit! Sorry dude,” He mumbles, looking up from his phone screen for the first time since he’d walked onto my floor. 

“Oh no worries!” I say, cringing at the way my voice sounds, way too chirpy for a bloke who’s been locked out of his room for nearly a half-hour, not to mention the way that my tongue always sounds like it’s too big for my mouth. I push the thoughts away as the boy speaks again. 

“Fuck, are you locked out?” He asks, pocketing his cell phone.

“Yeah,” I chuckle, nervously, crossing my feet at the ankles. 

“Why don’t ya go downstairs? Ask Bri to open the door for ya?” He asks, laughing a little bit, as if it were the simplest solution in the world. He had a nice voice, nasally but not too much so. 

I scoff, “Brian hates me.” I state, looking up at the boy. He’s got really nice eyes, they’re a deep honey-brown color, but I’d imagine they’d just  _ shine  _ when the sun hits them. 

“Eppy? Hating someone? No way,” he laughs, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“He does! Swear it! Always looking at me like he wants to put a bullet between my eyes!” I laugh, throwing my hands up in frustration. “And I’d go, but I can’t pay the fine! Haven’t got the money in my account for it! And I really need to submit this thing on my computer by midnight, and I’m just-” I trail off, sighing, looking away from the boy. 

“Hey! Hey! It’s alright! It’s gonna be fine! Let’s go downstairs and get this figured out!” He says, sounding much more assured than I would’ve been in this moment. He holds out a hand to me, almost like he’s going to help me up. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re gonna talk to Brian for me?” I ask, hesitantly, putting my hand in his as he helps tug me to my feet. 

“Why not? I was just with him ‘bout a half an hour ago, then he had to run to his shift at the front desk,” the boy states nonchalantly, now examining his nails on his right hand. Each fingernail was painted an opaque black color, and it’s a wonder that I didn’t notice it on the firsthand. 

Rather than keeping my stupid fucking mouth shut, I asked, “Why were you with  _ Brian?”  _ And in that moment, I think I learned to keep my nose out of other people’s business as he folded down the collar of his jean jacket to reveal the darkest, purplest hickies I’d ever seen on a person. And, I didn’t mean to audibly gasp, but it sure forces a laugh out of the boy opposite me. 

“Oh what? Not scared of boys kissin’ other boys, are ya?” He laughs, reaching out a hand to push at my shoulder playfully. I quickly shake my head back and forth, swallowing thickly. 

“N-no!” I say, feeling suddenly a strange pit of dread fall into my stomach. I didn’t want the guy who was gonna rescue me to think I was some kind of homophobic monster. ‘Cause I wasn't! 

“I’m just  _ joking!  _ Christ! Your face, dude!” He laughs, a belting, comfortable laugh. 

“Sorry…” I murmur. 

“God! Hey you’re fine! I was just messing around anyways! C’mon! I’ll get Eppy up here to unlock your room. All it’ll take is me batting my eyelashes and going ‘oh please Bri, unlock my friend's door!’” The boy’s talking a mile a minute, walking confidently towards the stairwell that leads to the lobby of the Residence Hall. “Speaking of, new friend, what  _ is  _ your name? I’m sure it’ll be much more convincing to Bri if I call you by name, you know?” He asks, his shoes squeaking against the polished concrete of the stairwell. 

“Paul.” I state, my voice still softer than I would’ve liked it to be, the tongue in my mouth feeling super heavy all of a sudden, almost like my words were getting caught on it.

“Well, I’m John,” the boy says, smiling at me, and it’s only then that I notice the glint of metal up against his top row of teeth, a piercing through the frenulum of his upper lip. I blink, watching the piercing disappear as the boy closes his mouth. 

“What’re you majoring in, Paul?” John asks, my name sounding like a spell as it rolls off of his tongue. I have to wonder if he can feel his piercing there at all times? Did it hurt?

I notice the awkward silence quickly falling between us and I’m rushing to answer, “History! With-with a minor in theater! What about you?” I hated the way my tongue seemed to get in the way, my words slow and sleepy sounding. 

“Oh that’s totally tight! I’m a philosophy and poli-sci double major, but honestly… I don’t really know what I’m doing here.” the boy laughs, and I can’t tear my eyes away. He’s so… wow… it was hard to describe. Alluring? Confident? Charming?

“Cool,” I say lamely, as we round the last set of stairs and find ourselves in the lobby.    
I watch as John kinda skirts out ahead of me, walking up to the front desk in a way that I can only describe as gliding, approaching Brian, whose face is hidden behind the screen of his laptop. 

I kind of stand against the wall, feeling rather awkward, not wanting to butt in on the conversation, kind of nervous about the whole thing. I mean, Brian hated my absolute guts, I was sure that if he could, he’d have me dragged out with the garbage when the rubbish truck comes to pick it up every Wednesday. He was always sneering at me, turning up his nose at me, the works. 

I try not to listen to their conversation, I really do try… but I can’t help how nosy I am. 

_ “Hey, Bri,”  _ John says, his voice taking on a dulcet tone as he places his hand on the back of Brian’s laptop, pushing it closed to get the young man’s attention. 

_ “Johnny,” _ Brian smiles up at him,  _ “What d’you need, beb?” _ He asks, putting a soft hand on the outside of John’s jean jacket-clad arm. 

_ “Friend of mine got us locked out of his room, think you… could maybe help us out? We’ve got a big test to study for and both of our laptops are in there!” _ John feigns despair, and I was sure he was blinking back at Brian. 

And, honestly, it’s best to spare you the grody details. 

Brian having an affinity for anyone was gross to me, even if it were as justified as having a crush on John. I mean, it would be justified. This dude is… enticing. But, that wasn’t the point. The point was, after a few weird caresses and a really painful kiss, Brian agreed to let us into my room.

__

“He really  _ does _ hate you,” John laughs after Brian had left the room and got far enough away to be out of earshot. 

“I  _ told you!”  _ I exclaim, throwing my hands up in exasperation, chuckling along with John. And then a thought kinda creeps into my head, one that I hadn’t had the energy to think about, due to the stress of the entire situation. “Wait, what were you doing on this floor, anyhow?” I ask, softly as a comfortable silence settled between us, John making himself plenty comfortable on the futon. 

“Oh! I almost forgot! I was coming up to see if a friend was in his room, but I never got around to knocking.” He says, chuckling, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I bet he’s out at the bars anyways, so I’d probably have been turning back around and heading right back downstairs.” 

“You live in the building?” I ask, sheepishly, my stomach doing an embarrassing little flip. Since John began tending to his phone, I figured it was as good of a time as any to start my submission process. I reach for my laptop and begin going through the quick steps to turn in my audition packet for the Fall musical.

“Yeah! Ground floor, baby,” He grins, showing off his little piercing again.  _ Whew.  _

“Nice!” I chirp, once again, my voice feeling so strangely disconnected from my mouth. I’m typing quickly, trying to get everything straightened out as quickly as possible, but not trying to seem disinterested in John. He was fascinating, and frankly, I didn’t want him to leave. 

“Yeah! So… you’re not out at the bars… not a big drinker?” John asks, typing rapidly on his phone as he asks the question. 

I click a few things, finally dragging the packet into the dropbox. I let out an enormous sigh of relief, “What? Sorry! Yeah, erm… getting pissed isn’t really my thing, yknow?” I say, shaking my head a little and shutting my laptop and placing it on my desktop. 

“Oh, I respect it.” He replies, finally looking up from his phone, glancing at me again. He then looks around the room, his eyes catching on the TV, then George’s PS4, then the stack of games on the counter. 

“Oh no way! You have GTA 5! I love that game! We _have_ to play, now!” John exclaims getting up from the futon, excitedly, almost rushing towards the television. 

“Erm… it’s not… it’s actually not mine, it’s my roommate’s.” I murmur, not wanting to disappoint John, seeing as he’d seemed so excited in that moment. 

“Oh…” He says, stopping, putting the game back down on the countertop, looking back at me, a light blush coating his cheeks. “Sorry I should’ve… asked…”

“No! We-we can still play! I just… I don’t know how…” I trail off, standing up from my chair and moving towards John.

“Not a video games guy?” He asks, shaking his head.

“Oh no! I just have an Xbox and home…” I laugh, shrugging my shoulders. 

“Lame!” John shouts, picking the game back up, and taking the disc out of its box, inserting it into the console. “Not really,” He laughs, playfully pushing at my shoulder again, “It’s a bit of a learning curve, but it’s actually not that much different. I’m sure you’ll catch on. Come on, let’s play.” 

  
  



	2. Somebody Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul and John attend a Fraternity Party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO SHIT I AM SO SORRY BUT I WANTED TO UPLOAD ALSO guys i kind of based this off of my own college experience, so if this isn’t like what you’ve all experienced then I am sorry hehe
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it!!
> 
> this is horribly unedited

**iMessage From: JaneLove (30/08/19 8:32 a.m.)**

_ Hey, r u coming home for the weekend? It’s a holiday soooo… just wondering _

**iMessage From: JaneLove (30/08/19 8:35 a.m.)**

_ It’s totally cool if you can't! Just call me when u get the chance?  _ 😂

**iMessage From: JaneLove (30/08/19 8:36 a.m.)**

_ Ik we broke up but like I want to see you if you’re coming home ig  _

**iMessage From: JaneLove (30/08/19 11:41 a.m.)**

_ Sorry I’m probably being so annoying rn haha... just ft me when u get a chance or something  _ 🥰💖

**iMessage From: JaneLove (30/08/19 3:13 p.m.)**

_ Okay you’re probably like really busy but like my parents want to know whether they should expect you at the barbecue or not… sooooo can you pls pls like text me back asap? _ 😂😂😂😂

I sighed heavily, pocketing my phone after reading through the constant stream of texts Jane had been spamming me with throughout the morning and into the afternoon. I wasn’t necessarily ignoring her, persay… it was just… she was so exhausting. She’d been the one to break off the relationship when the two of us had parted ways for university, but yet  _ she  _ had been the one to constantly call and check up on me. She said she couldn’t do long distance and I’d respected it, but yet here we are. It’s almost enough to make me feel bad for her, but she’d wanted to break up.

And I’d respected her wishes. 

I pulled out my phone and started to draft a message to send back to my now ex-girlfriend. I’d practically sulked through my whole summer over the fact that she wanted to end the relationship, the idea that there was  _ anyone _ besides her was something that didn’t click in my head. I mean, she was all that I knew! We’d dated for nearly the entirety of our high school careers and then  _ poof _ it was all over, and I’d done my best to come to accept it! But yet, here she is, trying to rope me back in by texting me so strangely, as if she hadn’t basically been my best friend for nearly four years. 

I stared down at the phone for a few moments before deciding to hit send. What was the worst that could happen? I was three hours from her anyhow. 

**iMessage To: JaneLove (30/08/19 4:52 p.m.)**

_ hi jane,,, i dont think ill be coming home this weekend ! sorry !! hope youre well:-) _

I rolled my eyes, feeling more annoyed about the whole situation than I probably should have. I pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure I was feeling in my head, the volume of the dining hall not really helping much. I’d ended up sitting myself down in the corner of the large hall, trying not to impose on anyone. I didn’t want to force myself to sit with a bunch of randos that I didn’t even know… I wasn’t very good at making conversation as it was. 

I stared at the sad, wilty salad in front of me, really debating whether I really wanted to put this “food” in my body.

“Jeez, who pissed in your cheerios this morning?” A familiar tinny voice asks from somewhere in front of me.

I look up, seeing a familiar pair of gold-framed specs and mischievous smile, dressed in one of the most hideous floral button ups I’d ever seen, holding a plate of some kind of mysterious meat-substance. 

“Nothing… it’s- a whole load of bullshit, honestly.” I sigh, shaking my head. 

“If it’s making you look like  _ that,  _ then it’s obviously enough to bother you! Can I sit…?” He asks, not waiting for me to answer, already setting his plate of slop next to mine. 

“Sure,” I answer, well after John had already sat himself down next to me. 

“Now… I have two very important questions,” John began, taking a deep breath, taking his glasses off and setting them down on the table top. “First off, why in the absolute fuck are you eating a salad for lunch? I hope you’re not some kind of health nut ‘cause honestly I don’t know if I can handle that kind of pressure-”

I roll my eyes, cutting him off, “I’m vegetarian.” 

“Oh! _ Thank god…  _ that’s honestly… that’s good. Okay, second question: what’s got your undies in a fucking knot? Am I sensing a lover’s spat?” He asks, nudging me softly with his elbow, a devious grin spreading over his features. 

I just groan, throwing my head back. If I had to try to explain the entire situation about Jane and I to this boy I was barely friends with, I mean, we’d met less than a week ago. I couldn’t just dump the summarized version of a four year relationship on this guy.  _ Could I? _

“Oh my god!! It  _ is  _ a lover’s quarrel! Can I pry? May I know the details?” John smirks, leaning in, flashing a dazzling grin, the silver hoop juxtaposing itself nicely against his teeth.

“It’s- well- ex-lover… she’s…” 

“She…?” He asks, raising a manicured eyebrow, almost as if he were disbelieving, reaching for his fork and putting a healthy heaping of what I assumed was a meat of some kind into his mouth.

“Yeah…?”

“Well I already know why it’s an ex-lover then.” John states, food still in his mouth, chuckling to himself before taking another bite of the mystery meat on his plate. 

“Wha’ the hell is that supposed to mean?” I grumble, John was only making my sour mood more and more sour. I had a feeling I’d be cutting this conversation short.

“Hm…” John hums, eyes raking over my features carefully. “Nothing… I just thought maybe...” He answers after a long pause. “I guess I thought wrong,” He chuckles finally. 

I shake off the strange interaction before asking, “Do- do you want to hear about Jane or not?” 

“Yes, Grumpy. I would like to hear about this Jane lass,” He rolls his eyes, taking another bite of his food. 

“It’s like…” I take a deep breath, debating whether or not I really wanted to talk about this right now. “Basically she’s invited me home this weekend to her parents’ holiday barbecue they do every year! But we’re broken up, and it feels like a weird thing to ask, and I didn’t plan on going home this weekend, but like… maybe I should…? It wouldn’t be so bad to see her-”

“Oh no. You are  _ not  _ going home. She invited you to a barbecue? You’re a vegetarian! What would you even eat?” John scoffs, throwing his hands up.

“I know! I don’t think I’d even get to eat anything! And it’s not even just that! She’s been spamming me with snapchats and texts like nonstop and… she was the one who wanted to fucking break up in the first place, like…” I realize how quickly I’d begun talking, completely unloading on John. He’s nodding, blinking slowly back at me. “Do I sound crazy?” I eventually ask, looking down at my uneaten salad. 

“No.” John says immediately after the words leave my lips. 

“Should… Like I feel like I should feel bad about not going home this weekend because I don’t have any obligations here… like… I’m not  _ doing anything  _ this weekend…” I state, pushing the dressing soaked lettuce around on the plate.

“Do you  _ want  _ to be doing something this weekend?” John asks with a smirk, mouth full.

“I mean… sure?” I reply, utterly unsure of my response, a little bit scared of what exactly John had in mind. 

“Would you like to come to a party?”

__

I was never one for parties. Surprise. And honestly, I wasn’t having the greatest time in the basement of  Alpha Omega Beta Zeta Pi  something or other. It was unbearably hot, there were so many bodies pressed up against mine and frankly, it was enough to almost make you claustrophobic. I wasn’t much of a dancer, much too clumsy on my feet, and it was so dark, I couldn’t really see anyone. I’d lost track of John a long time, and now I’ve got a red solo cup in my hand and some random girl up against me. 

Not that I’m complaining about the girl part. 

It’d just be better if it wasn’t in this exact situation; you know, in a hot, windowless, concrete frat basement that feels strangely wet for some reason. My shoes kind of stick to the floor every time I lift a foot, but I couldn’t complain too much. I was going out… doing  _ something  _ for the first weekend since I’d arrived at campus. 

I’d walked to the house with John, he’d gotten both of us on the list because Brian (you know the asshole from the front desk) was some kind of upstanding member of this frat. So, we walked the painstaking 15 minutes to “Greek Street” together, while John practically melted into a puddle at Brian’s feet. When he’d come to pick me up from my dorm, he’d already been slightly tipsy, and I could tell. He had a slight flush covering his cheeks, and he talked a little more loudly than was necessary for the situation, and he was slightly unsteady on his feet. However, he promised me that he could “handle his alcohol” and that I didn’t need to be his “babysitter”, whatever that meant. 

But just because John took me along to this party didn’t mean that he stayed with me, I’d become separated from him within the first fifteen minutes. I had absolutely no idea where the boy had gone, but Brian was here… I shouldn’t worry. 

“What’s your name, handsome?” A girl with her hand placed delicately on my shoulder asks, I can barely make out what she looks like because of the dim lighting, and weird strobe lights from somewhere across the basement. 

“Paul,” I shout over the music. “Yours?”

She must not have heard me, taking time to begin dancing on me, rather than answering any of my questions. She’s pretty, at least from what I can tell- what I can  _ feel.  _

I can feel the thump of the bass in my chest, it was some shitty rap song I didn’t recognize, but that really wasn’t a huge surprise. 

My mind wandered again to where John had run off to. I know he said not to worry, but if he was drunk when we got here, and he immediately downed a cup of whatever was in that trash can punch, and I can’t imagine he’d be walking very efficiently by the time that we left this house. 

Maybe he wouldn’t be leaving at all. 

Suddenly, it was way too fucking hot, and everyone was  _ way  _ too close, especially this girl who’d been grinding into my crotch for the past… dunno, five minutes? I had no idea how time worked in the basement of a fraternity. We could be in another dimension for all I knew.

“I need to refill my drink,” I shout to the girl, moving her off of me to be able to get away. I wasn’t  _ really _ going to get a drink. I was trying to get some air. Honestly, at this point I might as well up and leave. 

Just as I was finally getting towards the door, I felt someone  _ pull  _ me by my fucking beltloops back into the crowd.

“Where do  _ you  _ think you’re going?” John’s breath was hot on the back of my neck and he was too close to me, but I didn’t feel… mad about it. 

“I was just… going to…” I trail off feeling John’s hand slip into the back pocket of my jeans.

“Leave without me?” He slurs, and honestly it got at least ten degrees hotter in the room. I swallowed thickly. I could smell the alcohol on him, and at this point I didn’t know if his hand was in my back pocket to flirt, or if his hand in my back pocket was to keep himself standing upright. 

“No! Needed some fresh air,” I lied quickly, feeling John’s hands getting a little too adventurous for me. 

“Oh,” John hums, and he’s swaying. I can’t tell what exactly is going on, it’s loud, it’s dark and it’s  _ hot.  _ It’s unbearably hot. “Dance with me.” 

“John… I- I’m not a dancer…”

“So?” He shrugs, retreating his hand from my pocket and spinning me so we’re facing each other, and he’s grinning like a fool, his stupid piercing glinting under the strobe lights. He’s taking my hands and then we’re dancing (if you could even call it that) to some song that sounded like a Pitbull song… but I can’t tell you which one… they all sound the same. 

“Lighten up, would you?” John slurs, moving a hand up to my jaw. 

“I am!” I defend, plastering on a fake smile for the boy. 

I don’t know why I even really agreed to be here in the first place, I might as well try to enjoy it. A couple songs pass before John’s trying to talk to me again.

“Brian said we’re done, said that there’s someone else! M just a quick fuck for him... I’m sure...” He slurs against the shell of my ear. 

“What d’you mean?” I ask, finally taking the time to really look at John. It was only now that I could see the tear tracks down his cheeks, his hair obviously a little too ruffled for it to have been planned that way. He’d very obviously been crying. 

I guess I got a little too preoccupied trying to put the pieces together, when John’s dragging me over to where the drinks are being made. There’s a trashcan full of a mysterious mixed drink, a bunch of cases of beer, and not much else that I recognized. I watched him down a glass of whatever was in the trashcan all too quickly, before filling his cup up again. 

“Hey, slow down!” I laugh, watching him drain another cup and crush it in his hand. 

“What _ ever.”  _ John slurs, pulling me once again by my damned belt loops back into the middle of the sea of people. 

It’s not too long before things get strange again. Some song that John seems to  _ really  _ enjoy comes on, and he’s dancing on me. Like  _ really _ dancing on me, his back pressing flush against my chest. 

“What- John what are you doing?” I ask as he leans his head back against my shoulder as he moves his hips in a way that I could only describe as  _ sinful _ . 

“I’m dancing, duh,” He giggles like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I frown, looking down at John whose eyes are half-closed, a look of near euphoria spread over his features. I  _ almost  _ decide it’s better to try to play along, rather than just stand there and let John look like a fool, but then I see him. I see Brian up near the DJ, standing in the booth, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes very obviously glued to John dancing on me. 

If he didn’t hate me now, he sure would after this incident. 

“Brian’s watching you... you know that right?” I whisper, running a curious hand across John’s waist. 

“What the hell do you think I’m grinding on you for?” John laughs, opening his eyes to look at me, his smile growing wider by the second. 

“Oh…” I reply, feeling the heat of John’s breath against the side of my neck. Good god I shouldn’t have to be willing a boner away right now, but here we are. 

“Kiss me,” John states plainly, shifting himself to face me.

“John what?” I nearly shout, feeling like this is definitely  _ not  _ something I should be doing. Especially not with someone so inebriated. 

“Please just… until he looks away- just…” and John wastes absolutely no time connecting our lips, putting his large hands on either side of my face. I dropped my hands to his waist, pulling him close, flickering my eyes up to Brian to see if he was still watching. 

He was. 

I guess if we were gonna do this, we might as well do it right. I thread a steady hand through the curls at the base of John’s neck, slipping the other hand to grip his ass. I feel John’s tongue fighting its way into my mouth, and I’m enjoying this  _ way too much.  _

I opened my eyes again, looking to see if Brian was still watching. 

Sure enough. There he was, staring directly at us.

“What do you say, let’s give ol’ Bri a show, what do you think?” I mumble against John’s parted lips. 

“Oh he’ll be getting a show,” John slurs, devious smile spreading over his cheek before he’s reattaching our lips.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! PLS let me know what you liked or didn’t like! I appreciate you all so so so greatly! Come hang out with me on tumblr and insta @someforeignband


	3. Sincerity Is Scary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul tries out for the fall musical and John does work for a good cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIIIII ITS MY FINALS WEEK BUT I DID THIS INSTEAD OF DOING MY COURSEWORK!!! hehehee I am so irresponsible lmfao -- also I've been really physically ill lately (completely non pandemic related) and that really does kill my motivation to do absolutely anything. How are you guys holding up? I care about you all a lot. 
> 
> in all seriousness, I hope you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am!! there are going to be so many fun filled chapters being uploaded soon! I have so many ideas and yeah!! 
> 
> shout out to my angel May!! this story would not be possible without her constant encouragement and support !!

The performing arts building wasn't  _ large _ per say, but it was most definitely a maze. It was old and dilapidated, built sometime in the late 40’s and hadn’t been renovated since: I’m sure you can sort of work out how well the building has stood the test of time. I mean for starters, the wiring of the entire building is absolutely shit and the light switch that you flick on probably won’t turn on the lights you actually want, but will make a random lamp in the next room over flick on. 

Not to mention, there are tons of staircases that leave you in hallways that lead to nowhere, and honestly, it about did my head in during the first couple weeks of classes. I got lost going to my one acting class more times than I could count, and it was beyond embarrassing. A lot of upperclassmen reassured me that they’d done the same thing their first weeks of their first semester, but it didn’t do much to make me feel better. The majority of the mystery and the luster from the old building wore off by the third week, the leaky toilets, inconsistent light switches, and winding hallways began to get on my nerves. 

However, I’d be spending a lot more time in this godforsaken building, due to one of the seniors in my acting class convincing me to try out for the musical that the university was putting on this fall. Apparently, according to the buzz around the theater students, it was the one time each year that they put aside their differences with the “bummy theater group” on campus to put on this big musical performance. Which, according to those in the theater department, these theater group kids were just a bunch of amateurs, apparently lacking a lot of  _ real  _ skill, not real actors and all that. What their beef was really about though, I couldn’t really be sure. 

It all felt like a bunch of stupid shite, and the theater kids were being total snobs towards kids that just wanted to be a part of  _ some sort of theater production.  _ And I guess, due to the fact that this fall musical’s auditions were open for everyone, this created a truce between the theater department and the theater group… which, from what I could gather was somewhat of a rarity.

In any case, a dude in my acting class convinced me to fill out the audition packet to try out for this Fall Musical Extravaganza or whatever you wanted to call it, and so I had. And much to my surprise, I’d been invited to the first round of auditions, apparently my lengthy theater history from middle school onward had impressed whoever was casting this whole thing. I’d been lucky enough to star as Danny Zukko in my high school’s production of  _ Grease,  _ and Seymoure in the next year’s production of  _ Little Shop of Horrors,  _ along with a bunch of secondary characters throughout the years. I liked to perform… and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Just don’t get it twisted, it wasn’t really about the musical in itself. 

I’d had time to prep for my audition, researching as much about the show as I could beforehand. I might’ve been in shows as a kid and in highschool, but that didn’t mean I was a musical theater buff or anything. I’d never even heard of this show, even though it was pretty popular apparently. 

_ Anything Goes. _

I dunno. According to John, “it's about a bunch of fuckers on a boat.”

I did some research on the show and I figured I might as well try out for the lead, he was a tenor, but not a whiny one, which worked out in my favor. His name was Billy, and he sang a lot of numbers about what seemed like nothing. If I was going to try out for this damned musical, I might as well shoot for the lead.

If I got it, I’d be elated. If I didn’t, I could try out for an ensemble part! It all worked out in my favor.

I’d talked to George, my roommate, about the whole thing. He said I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try to go for it. I’d even confided in John about it, telling him about the show. He had told me that his high school put it on, and he’d done some of the set work. And that’s when he so eloquently explained that it was all about… you know… some fuckers on a boat.

And thus, my audition time came and went. I hadn’t felt  _ super _ good about the whole thing, but then (to my utmost surprise), I’d gotten a callback. And now, I was attempting to stumble through the old Performing Arts Center to find where the cast list would be posted. The director explained that he’d have it posted outside of his door around 3 p.m., my class got out at 3:45, so I figured that now was as good of a time as any to run and check the list. I wasn’t in a huge hurry or anything, I wasn’t really in that big of a rush just to see that I’m like some kind of secondary character. 

I got to the bottom of the stairs, entering the basement of the building, rounding the corner to the hallway that led to the director’s office. It was dim, there must have been a light out. I was shaking a little bit, I suppose there was a sort of adrenaline rush that came with this kind of a thing.

I approached the darkened office, seeing the large pink piece of paper posted on the door. I almost couldn’t look, pulling out my phone, sending off a couple quick messages.

**iMessage to: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:49 p.m.)**

_ checking the list now ,,,,  _

**iMessage to: Curious George (09/09/2019 3:49 p.m.)**

_ wanna grab dinner from the dining hall tonight? before u have practice? _

Taking a deep breath, I finally moved my eyes up to scan over the paper. I started at the bottom, scanning the minor characters and ensemble, when I didn’t see my name I started to think that maybe I hadn’t made the cast at all. My heart was throbbing in my throat, it wasn’t the end of the world, but  _ holy shit I was full on panicking.  _ I passed Lord Evelyn Oakleigh and I still hadn’t seen my name.

Then, there it was. 

**Billy Crocker -** Paul McCartney

I rubbed my eyes a couple of times, blinking a couple more times at this list of characters. 

_ I was the fucking lead. _

No fucking way. 

I pulled out my phone, snapping a photo of the list of cast members to look at later. I was absolutely ecstatic, then tapping to the messages app to text John the news, only to see a flurry of texts from the guy.

**iMessage from: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:49 p.m.)**

_ well????  _

**iMessage from: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:49 p.m.)**

_ dude i stg if you leave me hanging i will kill u _

**iMessage from: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:49 p.m.)**

_ DUUUUUUDE _

**iMessage from: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:49 p.m.)**

_ r u fuckn kidding bro  _

**iMessage from: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:50 p.m.)**

_ the SUSPENSE is killing me _

**iMessage from: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:50 p.m.)**

_ hhhhhhhhh _

**iMessage from: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:50 p.m.)**

_ i don’t like u anymore  _

**iMessage from: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:50 p.m.)**

_ why am i more nervous than u wtf _

I chuckled at the flurry of spammed nonsense. 

**iMessage to: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:51 p.m.)**

_ john lmfao  _

**iMessage to: John Lennon (ground floor) (09/09/2019 3:51 p.m.)**

_ im billy btw ,,, i got the lead  _

_ __ _

After the events of what happened about a week ago, I’d been avoiding seeing John in person somewhat. I mean, sure I saw him some, but every time I locked eyes with the dude, I could feel his slimy tongue in my mouth. 

Okay. That was kind of harsh. 

It’s just that… he didn’t really remember the whole thing. Or at least, if he did, it’d yet to make him feel weird around me. Things were  _ so  _ normal between us that I was beginning to wonder if  _ I  _ was the one who had imagined the whole thing. I knew that wasn’t the case, seeing as I’d barely been able to get John back to his dorm, he was stumbling all over, barely able to stand upright, and eventually we had to stop so he could vom his entire body weight into the goddamn bushes. 

He’d ended up coming upstairs with me, falling asleep on our futon-couch-thingy. I was so worried he was so pissed that he’d die in his fucking sleep or something if I didn’t let him crash in our room. And, George didn’t mind, he’d texted me earlier that he’d be spending the night in some bird’s room. 

The next morning, the first sentence that came out of John’s mouth was, “Never let me drink like that again,” followed immediately by, “I can’t wait to go out and get fucked up again tonight, though. You coming?”

I could only laugh. 

“Are you kidding? We’ve barely been friends for a full 72 hours, and you expect me to take your drunk ass home with me again? No way.”

He’d laughed it off, offering to buy me breakfast at the diner off of campus to make up for the night that we’d trudged through together. And it was nice, you know? Having someone to laugh and joke around with. 

Sure, George was nice and all, and we got on great. He was my first friend I’d made on campus, but we didn’t really spend much time together, really. It was funny, we lived in the same room, yet it was often like we were two ships passing in the night. Like, we were aware of each other’s presence and yet… we just operated separately, yet next to one another. 

I supposed I had a couple of friends in a couple of my other classes, but we were friends  _ in class.  _ I wouldn’t be calling up Cynthia from Economics 001 and asking her if she wanted to take a cab and go to the shops with me, or like Ritchie from Intro to Global History and asking him to go get drinks. Maybe I’d get there, but right now, George and John were the only people that I felt like I could do that with.

And thus, I tried my best to just kind of block out the visions of John with his tongue against the side of my neck, or the sound of the splatter of his sick onto my shoes… or the way his hands felt in the back pockets of my jeans.

It was a Thursday, and I just left my last class for the week. It felt good. It was only like our fourth week of classes but holy fuck, I was already tired of the actual  _ school  _ part of university. It was the sheer amount of work that I had to do was a bit overwhelming; like in high school I could get away with doing the absolute  _ least _ and still somehow pull off a good grade on the coursework. Not here. I actually had to put in effort for this work. 

The air was warm and I relished in the way the sunshine felt against my cheeks. It was a beautiful afternoon, and a brilliant start to the weekend. I kicked a pebble with the end of my shoe, walking along the path that led me back to my dorm room. I didn’t much feel like talking to anyone, so exhausted from this week’s classes. But, I looked forward to maybe finding a nice sunny place to sit and play guitar or something.

“Paul!” a loud voice echoed from somewhere just to the left of me. My head snapped up, and I looked over my left shoulder to try to find the source of the voice, turning around altogether. Across the large, grassy quad area I saw John and a couple other students standing behind a table which was advertising  _ something _ that I couldn’t quite make out, seeing as I was simply too far away. I let out a small sigh, realizing that I’d made the mistake of giving John my attention: he knew I’d heard him. Now I had to walk over there, awesome. 

Can you tell I’m in a sour mood?

I approach the table, gripping the straps on my book bag, flashing a smile to the boy and his other companions. I recognize Cynthia from my economics class, and another pair of girls that I hadn’t seen before. I smile at them too, not wanting to come off cold. “Hi, John,” I say, standing awkwardly, wondering what he’d called me over for in the first place. 

“Everyone, this is my friend, Paul!” John exclaimed excitedly, motioning to me. I waved, awkwardly.

“I know, Paul,” Cynthia chirps, shuffling to grab a clipboard off of the top of the table, before turning it towards me. “We have economics together!” 

“Uh, yeah I- what… erm…” I look confusedly down at the clipboard that Cynthia was holding out to me, not knowing whether to take it or not.

“Oh my god I’m so stupid! Okay, so let me give you my spiel,” Cynthia giggles, handing the clipboard to John, who’s seemed to let her take the reins. 

“So we’re a part of the A Kiss for Tris on-campus organization that is petitioning for the safe return of our beloved therapy dog, Beatris.” Cynthia said, motioning to some stickers that lay out across the table that had the face of the cutest dog I’d ever seen on them. She slid a couple of stickers towards me, and I picked one up, sticking it onto my shirt as Cynthia continued speaking. 

"In short, last spring, a bunch of the higher-ups on campus decided that having a Great Dane as a therapy dog was  _ damaging _ and  _ dangerous  _ to the student body, and our beloved Beatris was fired from her position. There was a lot of shady shit that went down with the dog’s owner, and now Beatris and her mother are without jobs. And I get really heated thinking about it, so I won’t go too much further into detail,” Cynthia explained, looking at John. 

“Basically we think-  _ at least I think-  _ that the firing of Tris allowed the University to cut spending that went towards Tris’ paycheck and the mental health department… so now they can funnel that money elsewhere. Which, in my humble opinion, is really fucked up,” John said, turning the clipboard back to me. “So basically, we ask that you sign this petition- we just need your name, signature, dorm building, and room number- because if we get enough signatures, the University agreed to let Beatris back on campus for a trial period. We’ll have more work to do from there, but for now, we just need a signature.” John waved the clipboard around, grinning madly at me. 

“Of course I’ll sign. I love dogs,” I grin, grabbing the clipboard from John’s hands and scrawling the necessary information onto the paper, smiling at the large number of signatures that already filled up previous pages. 

“Great! Thank you so much!” Cynthia beams, taking the clipboard from me, then proceeds to hand me a bunch of stickers, telling me to give them to my friends. I examine the stickers, noticing how there are at least four different designs all displaying different pictures of Beatris, with different slogans like “kiss our tail, administration” and “pucker up for your favorite pup”. I chuckled at them, looking through the stickers. 

“Thanks guys! I hope you get your signatures,” I say, turning to make my way back to my dorm with a pocket full of stickers.

“Wait! You forgot the best part of this org!” John calls out, and I turn back around, utterly confused. “It’s called a Kiss for Tris for a reason! Since you signed you get a kiss! On the cheek, forehead, lips, whatever!”

“Oh… uh- I don’t think that’ll be necessary…” I stutter, shoving my hands deep into my pockets. 

“Sure it’s necessary, come on!” Cynthia chides, still standing behind the table, laughing. 

“If you really don’t want me to give you a little kiss, I’m sure Cyn, Yoko, or Mal would be plenty willing!” John chuckles, walking closer to me, grinning, showing off that god forsaken piercing. 

It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss any of them… there were just so many people and I felt so… weird about the whole thing. 

“If you really don’t want a kiss you can leave, but honestly it might be good for publicity,” John smirks, now standing at my side. I felt like I couldn’t move, my pulse rushing through my ears, I didn’t know what the right answer was, at that moment. 

“I… uh-” I stammer, lamely, looking down at my shoes and then back up to John a couple of times trying to get my bearings. 

“Hey, uh… I can tell you’re uncomfortable, and that’s my bad… I shouldn’t have like… maybe we can grab dinner later?” John murmurs, a faint flush spreading over his cheeks. 

“I wasn’t- this isn’t- there’s… there’s just people…” I stutter, my tongue feeling like it weighed roughly 3 metric tons as my words tripped over it. 

“Still… take your stickers and… and we’ll grab dinner from the dining hall later, yeah? No kiss required…” John says, before adding, “I mean, unless you’d like that.” He grins, mischievously. 

I feel the tips of my ears burn in embarrassment. I can’t hold myself to keep looking at John, so I look at my shoes instead

“Erm… Dinner later. Yeah. Sounds… good.” I state, leaving it at that and nothing else. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it!! come hang out w me on insta or Tumblr @someforeignband !!! I know these are really tough times and I hope you're all staying healthy and safe! if you need anything I am only a message away !! I appreciate you all so so so so so dearly xxx
> 
> stay safe !! take care !!


	4. Is There Somebody Who Can Watch You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John breaks down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO !!! UHH THIS IS UNEDITED AND I APOLOGIZE FIRST OF ALL 
> 
> SECOND OF ALL !!!! IVE FINISHED MY FIRST YEAR OF UNIVERSITY OFFICIALLY AND I COULDN'T BE MORE EXCITED TO SPEND MY WHOLE SUMMER WRITING AND UPLOADING !! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!! it's a bit angsty but not too bad... I hope it doesn't make anyone too sad! Paulie is a good friend. 
> 
> Side note: I hope all of you are staying safe and somewhat sane in these crazy times. I'm always here for a chat if you need anything!
> 
> Lastly, shout out to my sweet May who never ceases to amaze me with her kindness and generosity!! I LITERALLY COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT HER

I bolted awake from a dead, hard sleep, bleary eyed and confused as to what had woken me. My heart was racing, my hands shaky, I looked around, fumbling for where my phone was resting on the dresser next to my bed. I was breathing hard, all of my senses heightened from being woken by  _ something.  _ I run a hand through my hair before checking my phone. 

First, I notice the time 1:56 a.m. 

Second: I notice the amount of missed calls I have.

**(5) Missed Calls: Johnathan Lennington**

Then, I see the sheer  _ mass  _ of text messages. 

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:13 a.m.)**

_ hey can you talk  _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:13 a.m.)**

_ shit you’re prolly asleep .. sorry ignore thiss _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:19 a.m.)**

_ okay no i actually sort of need sum1 to talk to _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:19 a.m.)**

_ fuck _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:20 a.m.)**

_ ok it’s not that serious but like im feelin so weird and i need somebody  _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:21 a.m.)**

_ oh its .. i should sleep its nbd sorry pls ignore these _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:30 a.m.)**

_ i can’t sleep so I’m gonna walk around on the roof for a bit! if you wake up and see this lmk if u wanna tag along  _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:33 a.m.)**

_ it’s rlly cold up here so make sure you have a jacket _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:33 a.m.)**

_ or just dont be dumb like me and put a shirt on _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:33 a.m.)**

_ okay,,, it is too fucking cold _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:40 a.m.)**

_ smoked my last joint i had rolled already so ,,, fuck this im going inside  _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:49 a.m.)**

_ can i pls come up to your room? my roommae is scary and i rlly rally do not want to be around him in my current mntal state _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:50 a.m.)**

_ wwow im just comng upstairs as soon as i get the courafe and my head stops spinning _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:50 a.m.)**

_ im crying for some reason … ifnore that when i get upstairs pleas im fine dont say anythinf about it _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:52 a.m.)**

_ sorry if i smell like bad ive smoked waay to mych  _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:53 a.m.)** __

_ im outside will yu pleas let me in _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:53 a.m.)**

_ paul please _

**iMessage from: Johnathan Lennington (09/18/2019 1:53 a.m.)**

_ fuck im so soryry _

I barely have time to scan through all of the messages before I hear it again: it’s a faint tapping on the other side of the door. I checked the messages again, seeing that the last call had been made less than two minutes ago, and I figured, even in this sleepy and disoriented state, that a very high, very upset John was probably standing on the other side of my door right now. 

I softly climbed out of bed, careful not to make too much noise, grabbing a hoodie off of the back of my desk’s chair. I knew I wouldn’t wake George, he slept harder than most dead people, but I still didn’t want to take the chance that I would have to explain why I’m sneaking out of the room in sleep shorts and a pilly hoodie from a thrift store at nearly two a.m.

I crept to the door, phone in hand, turning the door knob as slowly as I could, worried about the squeakiness of the door. I opened it slowly and carefully, but my heart dropped into my stomach when I saw John standing outside the door, head in hands, looking disheveled; and suddenly, I couldn’t care less about the stupid door. I shut the door quickly behind me, slipping my phone into my hoodie’s pocket and reaching out for the poor boy. 

“John,” I whisper, pulling his hands gently away from his face. He’d been crying… probably a lot, but I couldn’t really be sure. With how much he’d smoked, I couldn’t be sure if the puffiness and redness of his eyes was from crying or the drug, but either way he looked a mess. He stood, sock-footed, in a tank top and gray sweats that left very little to the imagination, but now was not the time to be thinking about something like that. 

“What’s happened, dear?” I soothe, lifting his chin up so that his eyes can meet mine. I notice the glistening of the tear tracks and frown. If he’d come to me in this state without context, I’d have been so gentle with him, but with the marijuana in his system, I knew that I’d have to speak soft, and be sweet, not wanting to make him more upset than he already was. Something was so very obviously wrong, his hair was a mess of frizzy curls and most of the nailpolish had been picked from his fingernails. 

“I’m- I just- all of a sudden it all felt so bad, you know?” John whimpers, reaching a shaky hand up to rub at his already blood-shot eyes. 

“What- John, what do you mean?” I prod, gently, pulling his hand away from his face, pulling him away from where we were standing and into the stairwell just a few steps from my door. I didn’t want to risk some stupid RA walking out and writing John up for being high. Especially not when he was as upset as he was at this moment, that would almost feel like god was just fucking with us at that point. 

“I don’t know…” he sniffles, rubbing at his nose once or twice, blinking back the tears that I can see glazing over his eyes. They’re glassy and  _ so red,  _ I couldn’t bear the thought of John up on the roof smoking alone, crying with his tears being blown across his face by the wind. I watch his gaze slowly move towards the stairwell. 

“Do you want to talk about it? We could…” I pause, watching the boy lean against the wall, blinking back at me, the same melancholy expression painted over his face, eyes darting between me and the staircase. “We could try going to one of those all-night study rooms in the library? We could talk there? Or the cafe that’s open 24 hours, we could go there?” I soothe, just trying to calm him down. His eyes started to shift from me to the hallway, and he was looking over his shoulder and down the stairs nearly every time I opened my mouth to speak. Something was so, very wrong and it was obvious that John  _ did not _ feel safe. 

“Hey, John,” I touch his arm softly, he flinches suddenly, pulling away from me, before relaxing and shaking his head. 

“Sorry,” He murmurs, eyebrows knitting together, he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, concentrating on something that I very obviously could not see or feel. 

“You’re okay,” I promise, softly reaching out to put a hand on his arm again. He doesn’t pull away this time. “You’re safe, John.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just kind of looks between me and the stairwell. Even in this light and this circumstance, I can’t help but admire how nice his eyes are: soft amber, warm and incredibly  _ kind.  _ Even though, in this instance, there was fear behind his eyes. 

“Let’s walk to the cafe, yeah?” I suggest, rubbing my hand softly against his shoulder before offering, “I’ll buy you a muffin.”

John then raises an eyebrow, a hesitant smile spreading over his features, “A chocolate one? You know the ones with the chocolate bread part  _ and  _ the chocolate inside?” He asks, almost excitedly. 

I chuckle at his mention of the ‘bread part’, but still nod in agreement. “Yeah, John, I’ll buy you whatever kind of muffin you want, but I gotta get my wallet from my room first, yeah?” 

“I’ll come with you.” He says quickly, clasping his hands together around my arm, and I nod in agreement.

“Just gotta be quiet, okay?” I say, softly. 

John nods, “Okay, Paulie.” 

__

John seemed to calm down some after we had a change of scenery. We walked across campus in the brisk, September air, to the library, which had an all-night cafe area where students could do homework into the wee hours of the morning. Lucky for us, the cafe was like a fucking ghost town, and the only sign of student activity was the cashier that stood behind the counter, full noise-cancelling headphones over his head, not really paying us any mind. I sat us down at the table, having to nearly wrench my hand out of John’s, seeing as he’d latched onto my hand with his when we’d left the dormitory building and had since kept his hand in mine. I didn’t mind, but my hand was getting really sweaty and my fingers were getting like the tiniest bit numb from John’s extremely  _ firm grip.  _

“Hey,” I squeeze his hand a couple times before letting go of it. “I’m gonna get you that muffin.” I chuckle, and he nods. I hoped that some food and water would walk him down from wherever he was, so that he could at least  _ talk  _ to me. 

Finally settling myself back in the chair across from John, I slid the bottled water and chocolate muffin towards him, sending him a soft smile. He returned the smile, unscrewing the cap on the water bottle, taking a slow swig, the crinkling sound of the plastic echoing throughout the empty cafe. 

“Are- do you think you can tell me what’s going on, now?” I asked, gently. As calm as John seemed now, I couldn’t shake off what had happened earlier, there was something that just  _ wasn’t right.  _

“I s’pose,” John shrugs, tearing off a piece of muffin and putting it into his mouth, humming. “Well… I was feelin’ real bad about Bri, ‘bout the way he treated me and tha’,” John explains, shrugging. “So I figured I’d go ‘ave a smoke on the roof, been doin’ that for a few weeks an’ it’s real calmin’, you know?” 

I nod, watching his expressions carefully. I didn’t want him crying anymore, didn’t want to push him to say or do anything he didn’t feel comfortable doing, especially not in the way he was acting right now. 

“So I’m on the roof, and I’m smokin’ probably much more than I should and I jus’ get to thinking about it all: you know, my dad, Brian, the works, and like, I’m not feelin’ very well after that,” He says further, sighing. “So, I walk back down from the roof to my room, and my horrible roommate, who doesn’t do nothing ‘cept make things worse,” John groans. “Paulie, he’s awful!”

I frown, “I’m so sorry to hear that.” I wanted to say more, ask more questions about what he and Brian’s relationship had really entailed, ask about what his father was doing that made him so upset, but I didn’t want to scrape too much further below the surface. I didn’t want to overstep, he was already trusting me so much already, coming to me in a time of obvious crisis, that I didn’t want to… I was scared of upsetting him more. 

“Oh it’s okay really, he’s just mad because he’s ugly, I reckon,” John laughs, throwing his head back, chuckling to himself. I laugh, too, smiling at the boy sitting across from me. “Pity on anyone who’s ugly, I mean, he’s not…” he sighs, defeatedly. “He’s not ugly one the outside… he’s just ugly on the inside, real evil and mean-spirited. Swear he’d kick an infant if he got the chance, punch a baby right in it’s soft spot.”

I let out a burst of giggles at that completely unexpected comment. I couldn’t help but laugh, I mean, even in a state of complete and total catastrophe, John found a way to be extraordinarily witty. 

“He would! Probably hates puppies, and the lot of cute things!” John throws his hands up, and sighs, running a hand through his tangled hair. 

I snicker, watching him finish off the muffin, proceeding to play with the wrapper, balling it up his hands. “But, I come back to the room, and Pete and his stupid friends are all there, and they’ve pulled a bunch of my decorations down off of my walls on my side of the room!” John exclaims, his voice strained. I’d never been in John’s room, only having seen it in snapchats. I knew he had a plethora of posters and decorations on his wall, including a large tapestry and various vintage-style horror movie posters. 

“They were- they pulled my erm- like the first week they- he- pulled my… my pride flag off of the wall while I was at class… an’ at the time I didn’t think anything of it like… but he insisted he didn’t know where it’d gone.” John takes a breath, looking down at his hands. “But, I come down from the roof all buzzed, an’ he’s just- he’s trashing my room!” 

I frown, watching as John gets exceedingly more rattled as he goes on telling the story. 

“And I still had my phone, and keys, and like two blunts in my pocket, but I come in… they’ve wrecked everything! Torn up- torn up my  _ Poltergeist  _ poster, broken the pot that held a cactus, crumpled the  _ Night of the Living Dead _ poster, and-” John pauses, sucking in a big deep breath, and I can’t help but take note of the fact that his eyes were watering again. I reach out putting a hand over his. 

“He- I didn’t care about my stuff! It’s just stuff… but…” he took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He… um- well it wouldn’t be the first time. But, he called me a…” John looks down at where my hand was placed overtop of his. I watched his brows knit together as he blinked rapidly, a tear rolling down his cheek. He didn’t have to finish the sentence; I already knew what his roommate,  _ Pete,  _ had said. It’s a vulgar word. A slur. I felt rage burning hot in the middle of my chest as I just helplessly watch tears slowly fall down John’s face. 

I frown, and before I really know what exactly I’m doing, I reach up a hand to wipe the tear away. A silent form of reassurance. What could I even say right now? 

“I’m scared of him, Paul.” John gasps, pulling away from me, burying his face in his hands. 

“I- John,” I say helplessly, rubbing a hand softly up and down his arm, trying to dulcify him in the best way that I could, but I doubt I was helping much. The auburn haired boy simply cried, sobbed softly into his hands, curling in on himself away from me. 

“Is there anything we can do? Should we take this to administration or the school bo-”

_ “No!”  _ John exclaims, his head snapping up from his hands, his eyes wild with fear. “He’ll- he said he’s gonna h-hurt me!” 

“John, he can’t… he wouldn't get away with hurting you. Could we at least tell your RA? You’ve gotta tell someone!” I say, trying to get John to do  _ something _ about this whole situation. From the way he was speaking, Pete was doing something to really get at him, something that made him feel so unsafe that he was scared to be in his own room. It was about a month into school, I could only assume that if he let this go on, that it would get even worse. 

“I can’t! I can’t! No one’s gonna believe- It’s… it’s not so bad, anyway. Just scares me, is all,” John promises, but it honestly sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than me.

I stare at him for a bit, biting the inside of my cheek, thinking. I couldn’t just let him take this obvious torment from his roommate, but I wasn’t going to betray his trust. Not yet anyway. I worried for his safety, but I didn’t want to make things worse. If I got involved now, there was probably a chance that this Pete guy would just come down harder and torment him more. I sigh, looking at John who had taken to staring at a spot on the wall where the wallpaper was peeling away from the foundation. 

“Okay,” I say after a while, and John turns to look at me, his cheeks still shiny from the tears that had spilled down his face. “Do you want to sleep on our futon for the next couple of nights?” I ask. 

“Would George be okay with it? I don’t want to overstep my boundaries…” John replies, his voice still watery.

I nod, “I’m sure George would be fine with it, he sleeps heavier than a dead person,” I say, with a light laugh. John chuckles softly, sniffling slightly, taking a hand to wipe at his nose.

He grimaces at the result of this action, wiping the palm of his hand on his sweats. I laugh, and then he laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the sides. 

“Should we head back to my room so you can maybe get some sleep?” I ask, reaching out and tucking a stray curl behind John’s ear and he nods. 

We begin walking back to the dorms in a comfortable silence, and after a minute John pipes up, “Hey, Paul?”

“Yeah?” I ask, glancing over at him. 

“Thanks.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED !!!!!! come hang out with me on Tumblr and Instagram @someforeignband ! I'm always down to talk about our boys:') I hope you all have a wonderful day!! APPRECIATE YOU ALL IMMENSELY.

**Author's Note:**

> HOPE YOU LOVED IT!! come hang out w me on Tumblr or Instagram @someforeignband ! same user as this one!!


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